


Degausser

by Cassy27



Series: This World Is Not Made for You [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Clint has energy to get rid off, Crimelord!Tony, Criminal!Clint, Criminal!Steve, Hotness ensues, M/M, Thankfully Steve is nearby, Underworld, there is sex, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-30 00:45:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11452473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassy27/pseuds/Cassy27
Summary: After finishing up a violent job for Crimelord Tony Stark, Clint has trouble unwinding. Thankfully, Steve Rogers is there to help him calm down. Only Clint has a very specific way of releasing pent-up energy. And who's Steve to say no to Clint?





	Degausser

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a reward for Greenloki for finishing a chapter. She was allowed to chose the pairing. Much to my surprise, I actually enjoyed writing Clint/Steve tremendously, and thus this will turn out to be a series of oneshots with all sorts of pairings. So be prepared for more! Enjoy!

“Where’s the money?” The guy stared straight ahead, eyes unblinking as he bit away the pain. Clint felt his annoyance slowly twist into anger, because he was losing his patience. “I’ve already asked politely so many times,” he continued with a hint of laughter in his voice, because the blood dripping from the guy’s nose and lips was evidence that there wasn’t an ounce of politeness in his bones. “Do you really want to test me any further?”

For the first time in over an hour, the man turned his gaze toward him. His dark eyes spoke of determination, which Clint would have found admirable under different circumstances, but not now, not today, not when he wasn’t cooperating in the slightest. Fist propelling forward, Clint hit the guy for the umpteenth time and, this time, he heard the crack of his nose breaking.

Justin Hammer screamed in pain.

 _Good_.                                    

“Just say it,” Clint said, hand already clenching into another fist, ready to hit him again. “Hammer, if you’re thinking this is brave, then you’re just being plain stupid. You’ve got nothing to gain by staying silent.” When Hammer continued to stare at him defiantly, Clint hit him again, exactly where he’d hit him before.

Hammer’s nose didn’t resemble a nose anymore.

His knuckles hurt from punching him so much, but Clint didn’t care. He had a job to perform, an answer to gain, and Justin Hammer was not complying to his wishes. Honestly, he’d expecting him to break after the first punch, Hammer not being known for bravery, but he appeared to be stronger than he looked. And so Clint kept beating him, kept kicking his legs until he heard something snap there, too, and then grabbed a handful of hair, twisting Hammer’s head back.

Their faces were only inches apart. Clint could feel Hammer’s hot, bloody, disgusting breath on his face. “Did you really think you could steal from the boss undetected?” He tightened his grip on Hammer’s hair and, to his satisfaction, he saw Hammer wince. “I always knew you weren’t the brightest guy, but to have done this …” Clint chuckled softly, never breaking eye-contact, not wanting to miss the slightest shift of emotion in Hammer’s eyes. “That’s just proving you’re not cut out for this life.”

Letting go of Hammer’s hair, Clint lifted his fist to beat the man again, aiming for his jaw this time, wanting to break the man, bone by bone, only for a hand to curl around his wrist, preventing him from throwing the punch. Furiously, Clint spun around, ready to attack whoever had the nerve to interrupt him, only to find himself facing Steve fucking Rogers.

“What the fuck, Steve?” Poison laced his voice.

Hammer let out a sigh of relief behind him.

“The boss wants to see us,” was all Steve said as he let go of Clint’s wrist and turned around again, leaving the small, dark room.

Clint didn’t instantly follow, he couldn’t, because his legs weren’t entirely cooperating anymore. His heart beat furiously inside his chest, thrumming against his ribcage. He wasn’t done with Hammer, didn’t want to leave before he’d booked results, but if the boss wanted to talk to them, then something must have changed.

Turning, Clint lifted his bloody fist again, not because he wanted to actually hit Hammer again, but because he simply enjoyed the looked of absolute terror on Hammer’s face, his eyes fluttering shut and a whimper leaving his lips.

“Pathetic,” Clint snapped at the guy.

Steve was waiting for him outside the room, and he wasn’t alone. Beside Steve stood their boss, dressed immaculately, as always, in a navy-blue three-piece suit, and wearing expensive leather shoes. The golden watch he wore probably cost more than Clint made in a year. Anthony Edward Stark was a wealthy man, always had been, having inherited millions after his father’s death, but it was his intelligence that had bombarded him to king of the Underworld after he’d taken over from Howard Stark. It was his intelligence and his thirst for blood that made him stay king for over a decade already.

“Mr. Stark,” Clint greeted him.

“We found the missing money,” Tony said. Whenever he spoke, he sounded business-like. Clint had not once caught Tony on an emotion he wasn’t in control of. It was part of why he admired the man so much.

“In his flat?” Clint asked, which was exactly what he’d predicted.

“In his flat,” Tony affirmed.

Because Justin Hammer had always strived to be just like Tony Stark, but he was too stupid to make it into the higher ranks. Only an idiot would steal money from a crime lord and hide it somewhere so obvious. _Moron_. “What do you want to do with him now?” He asked.

“Make an example out of him,” Tony ordered. He glanced at his watch and sighed. “I wish I could stay to watch, but I have another meeting to attend.” When their gazes locked, Tony smiled. Proudly. Clint felt as if he grew an inch. Tony relied on him, knew he could count on him for anything, any job, which was the only reason Clint had so quickly become his right hand. Along with Steve Rogers. “I trust you to finish this accordingly, Barton.”

“I will, Sir,” Clint replied.

Without another word, Tony left the two of them alone, the silence in the hallway heavy all of a sudden. Clint looked at Steve. “Do you think Hammer knows his fate has just been sealed?”

“If not, he’ll know the moment you go back in,” Steve said.

It was true. The moment Clint entered the darkened room again, the door falling shut with a definitive sound behind him, Justin Hammer gasped and straightened in his seat. His eyes flitted across the room, searching for an escape that wasn’t there. His hands and feet were bound to the metal chair.

“No, please,” he began.

“We found the money,” Clint said. Before, he’d felt calm, composed, but knowing what was to follow, he felt uncomfortable in his own skin, as if his bones were about to break through his skin, as if his blood rushed through his veins too quickly. Every inch of him itched to hurt, to break, to destroy. “There’s no reason for you take up any more of our time.”

“I can still be useful,” Hammer pleaded. “I can be loyal. I should never have stolen that money; it was stupid of me. Tell Mr. Stark that I’m sorry. Please.” Clint took another step toward him. “ _Please!_ ”

“Mr. Stark could never trust you again,” Clint countered, “and none of us would ever want to work with you again, you disgusting piece of shit.”

Justin Hammer began pulling at his restraints. He’d never get free, though. Steve himself had tied him up and no one had ever escaped Steve’s knots before. “Then I’ll leave.” Hammer’s voice broke into a sob. “I’ll leave this city and I’ll never come back. No one has to know!”

“You should have thought of the consequences before you betrayed him,” Clint growled and landed his first blow, his fist hitting Hammer’s eye with a sickening sound. “Before you betrayed us.” He hit him again, and again, and again. He barely heard the door behind him opening and closing, and he certainly didn’t pay Steve any attention as he stood leaning against the wall, watching him beat the shit of Justin Hammer with mild interest at best.

Blood splattered onto his shirt and face, but Clint didn’t bother to wipe it off. Hammer cried and begged and screamed louder with every blow, with every crack of bone, with every tear of skin. And Clint’s punches grew even harder, adrenaline pumping through his veins, feeding off of Hammer’s fear. Justin Hammer twisted and turned in his seat, began screaming from the top of his lungs, so Clint beat his chest, so he wouldn’t have any air left to scream. He punched him so hard, Clint heard ribs break.

Hammer spit out the blood that flooded his lungs.

Clint didn’t know when to stop, his fists landing on their own accord. He didn’t stop when Hammer’s breath began to rattle, when he was clearly drowning in his own blood, and he didn’t stop when Hammer no longer moved. He didn’t stop when he went limp and slid from the chair, the position of his body awkward since it had been tied down so firmly.

He didn’t stop when Steve said his name, didn’t stop when he shouted his name. His vision had gone black, his mind numb. Only when two arms folded around his body, dragging him away from Hammer, did Clint finally stop kicking and beating.

“Come back, Clint.” Steve’s voice sounded somewhere far away, yet Clint could feel Steve’s hot breath on his face. “You’ve done your job, now you need to come back to me.” This was why Steve always refused to leave his side at times like these, why he refused to accept another job from Mr. Stark while Clint was working, because he knew Clint needed an anchor afterward, needed someone to pull him back from the brink.

Because he knew Clint needed _him_.

“Is he …” He didn’t have enough breath left in his body to finish that sentence.

“Yeah,” Steve replied. “He’s dead.”

Only now did Clint realise that Steve still had both his arms wrapped around him. Eyes falling shut, Clint pressed his face against Steve’s shoulder and forced himself to calm down, to slow down his breathing, and to unclench his fists. Only he couldn’t. Each time his heart beat within his chest, he still felt his fists hitting Hammer’s skin, still heard the wet sound of skin beating bloody skin.

“I can’t, Steve.” His voice didn’t sound like his own. His hands clenched the hem of Steve’s shirt. “I can’t,” he repeated. “I’m not … I can’t calm down.”

“Listen to my voice.” Steve sounded frustratingly serene.

Clint realised he didn’t _want_ to calm down. He still had too much energy cooped up inside of him, energy that needed to be unleashed or else it would destroy him from the inside out. A hand that had previously clung to Steve’s shirt now sought its way underneath the soft fabric, and Clint moaned at the feeling of hardened muscle. _Steve and his fucking six-pack._

“Clint?” Steve asked, careful, confused.

Ignoring the unspoken question of ‘ _what are you doing?’_ , Clint tilted his head sideways and kissed the side of Steve’s neck. He could feel the quickening pulse of Steve’s heart which only urged him to go on, despite Steve’s determined, “Clint, don’t.” His hand shifted to Steve’s side and squeezed the skin there before moving down further, down Steve’s hip and toward his inner thigh.

“This is a bad idea,” Steve protested, already breathless.

 _I love bad ideas,_ Clint thought as his teeth scraped Steve’s jaw. He smiled at the feeling of Steve’s growing hardness in his pants. “You’re helping me,” he said and wiggled a knee between Steve’s legs.

To his satisfaction, Steve bucked his hips into the touch, seeking friction, and Clint chuckled softly. Steve wanted him, had always wanted him, but the guy was so goddamn honourable, so goddamn composed, that he never acted on his desires. And Clint had always respected Steve too much to seduce him, despite having wanted to lure him into his bed on more than one occasion. Screw respect now. He wanted Steve and he’d gotten him. He wasn’t going to stop now.

Steve pulled Clint’s shirt over his head and Clint instantly bucked into his touch when Steve’s hands began to explore the now naked skin of his chest and stomach. Steve’s hands felt as if they were on fire.

“What do you need me to do?” Steve asked, his voice heavy and rough. Uncontrolled.

Steve wasn’t often not in control of himself.

“Just …” Clint wasn’t sure what he needed from him, what he wanted. Head falling back, he moaned at the feeling of Steve’s lips kissing his collarbone, sucking small bruises into the skin there, proof of what they were doing. He didn’t even fucking care they stood in a dirty hallway where anyone could bust them at any given time.

“Just touch me,” he begged, uncaring of how desperate he sounded. Unzipping Steve’s trousers, he pulled out his maddeningly long and hard cock. Clint nearly dropped down to his knees right then and there, wanting to take Steve into his mouth, wanting to taste him, only for Steve to distract him from that desire with a passionate kiss.

Steve pushed Clint’s jeans down his hips, freeing his achingly hard cock. Shuddering, Clint wrapped his arms around Steve’s broad shoulders and took a step closer toward him, their bodies now pressed together. He only left just enough room for Steve to wiggle a hand in between them, his long and hot fingers wrapping around both their lengths.  

Even with their jeans around their ankles, Clint somehow managed to lift a leg, his knee pressing against Steve’s side. He thrust his hips forward each time Steve pumped them, spreading their pre-cum all over their lengths. Their stomachs were already sticky with it, and Clint knew how ridiculous their pose probably was, how clumsily they clung to each other as Steve jerked both of them off, but Clint couldn’t be bothered less about it. Pleasure rolled through his body like a thick blanket, driving away the last remnants of violence.

Steve quickened the pace, the air around them now filling with the sound of skin slapping against skin, and the smell of sex. Clint was breathing hard and fast, his hands clutching Steve’s shoulders as Steve brought them closer and closer to the finish. His cock began to hurt with how long Steve was taking, but it was a good kind of pain, the kind Clint thrived on, and when he did finally cum, his seed spilling all over Steve’s hand, he threw his head back and parted his lips, a silent scream leaving them.

Steve’s cock throbbed against his as he came, too.

Seconds ticked by while none of them moved, the only sound remaining their heavy, laboured breathing.

Eventually, it was Steve who moved first, removing his hand from their now-flaccid cocks and rubbing it clean of cum by wiping it off against Clint’s shirt. “You need a clean shirt,” he said as he handed it back.

Clearing his throat, Clint stumbled back, rather awkwardly, and pulled his pants back up. “That was …” Honestly, he couldn’t describe it using just one word. No word could describe how that had felt. “Thanks for that,” he settled on. Running a hand through his hair, Clint composed himself again and, much to his satisfaction, Steve seemed to have more trouble gaining back control of himself. The guy’s cheeks were flushed pink, his hair a mess as he got dressed properly again. Clint hated to see him cover up his cum-stained abdomen. It was a good look on him.

“Can we focus on the job again now?” Steve asked, voice slightly uneven.

Right, the job.

“Bring the van up front,” he said. “Then we’ll load Hammer in. I know a good spot to dump him.”

Steve nodded and turned, but he didn’t walk away. Clint didn’t say anything, granted Steve the time to think of what he wanted to say, because clearly there was something that needed to be said.

“Clint?” Steve glanced over his shoulder at him and their gazes locked, with ease. In that moment, Clint knew this wouldn’t be a one-time thing.

“Yeah?”

“It’s never a good idea to mix pleasure with business.”

Before, he hadn’t said it out loud, but now he did. “Thank God I love bad ideas,” he grinned.

Steve smiled. “Thank God.”


End file.
